


It's better to watch it all burn

by skullage (orphan_account)



Category: Block B, Winner (Band)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fisting, M/M, Pining, Polyamory, consensual voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-03-19 00:50:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13693410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/skullage
Summary: Jiho's not really jealous.





	1. Chapter 1

Twenty-eight minutes into Minho talking about Seungyoon’s trip Jiho looks up from his watch and tries to stop Minho by putting a hand on his arm. It doesn't work; Minho puts his own hand over Jiho’s and continues talking about Seungyoon. 

“Are you two dating?”

“I keep telling him to get it checked out but—what?”

“You and Seungyoon, are you dating?”

Minho shuts his mouth for several long seconds and the silence is so deafening Jiho puts on a track to cover it. He’s the only one that comes into the studio this late at night so it’s perfect for Minho, who needs somewhere to go where people won’t be happy to see him if they see him at all. 

“Of course not,” Minho says, “we wouldn’t—Seungyoon’s just a friend. It’s not like that.”

Jiho watches him squirm for a few seconds. “You can tell me if you are.” Jiho always thought Minho and Seungyoon would make a good couple, and wondered, in the midst of his own pining, why they hadn’t gotten together years ago.

Minho lets out an awkward laugh before he realises Jiho’s not joking. “That wouldn’t be weird for you?” 

Jiho pulls his hand away. “Of course not. Why would it?”

“Because…” Minho trails off. 

Because of a lot of reasons. Because just last week before Jiho went onstage he called Minho up and confessed his feelings. Because even before that there was an unspoken rule about not discussing hook ups and relationships, the one thing in their friendship they steered clear of. Because Minho talks about Seungyoon the way he’s never talked about anyone, and that could crush Jiho, if he let it.

“I promise,” Jiho says, tightening his grip on Minho’s arm, “it’s not weird for me. Whatever makes you happy, you know?” 

If Jiho’s lying, it’s only a little. Through years of practice he’s learned how to squash his feelings for Minho down into a place not even he can reach them. They were finicky little things until he got a hold of them, always flaring up during practice and at random moments after Minho left, when he would scroll through his picture library and find ones taken of them from their trainee days, and some he’d saved of BOM and _Ultimate Survival_ behind the scenes pictures. Minho seemed happy, and that was worth not being in his life if that’s what Minho needed. If Minho is happy with Seungyoon, that’s worth it, too.

“We’re not, hyung,” Minho says again. “It’s not what you think.”

“Do you want it to be?”

Minho looks away and his silence answers Jiho’s question. “Did you know Youngbae-hyung’s wedding is coming up? If I was allowed a plus-one I’d totally bring you.”

Jiho laughs at the thought of being allowed anywhere near Minho’s CEO while his stomach twists at the thought of technically being Minho’s date. “I wouldn’t say yes. I’d have to be on my best behaviour.”

“The wedding is going to be big enough as it is. He wants a small reception, just YG family and actual family.” 

“Sandara’s going to be there right?” Minho nods. “Jihoon would hate me if you invited me and not him and he didn’t get a chance to see her outside of work.” Maybe because he hasn’t been sleeping much lately—or really at any point in time, ever—but he didn’t notice them drawing closer to each other until their knees bump. Minho’s hands rest on the arms of the chair and he’s so close Jiho could reach out and touch him, but he doesn’t. It feels like too much and too little at the same time. Minho’s made it clear that he doesn’t want him, and Jiho trying to make him would just be a desperate and foolish move on the part of a desperate and foolish man who is barely clinging to his sanity as it is. Instead, he thumbs a small scratch in the DAW and avoids looking at Minho too closely in case more of his feelings spill out of his mouth the way they’ve been threatening to for the past eight years. 

“He would be so mad at us both,” Minho says, laughing again, a sound that fills up the room. 

“He thinks he would be, but he couldn’t stay mad at anyone.” Jiho tries to imagine it, like the time Taeil accidentally left yogurt in Jihoon’s bedroom and it turned sour and stank up the place for days until they could find it. Then again, Jihoon’s always had a soft spot for Taeil. “I’m catching up with Seungyoon in a couple days,” Jiho says, just to fill the lull in the conversation. “I could ask him why he doesn’t want to date you.”

Minho’s look turns suspicious, as if he thinks Jiho would actually do that. “And crush my ego just a bit more? No thanks. Feels a little too high school for me.”

“You were never into anyone in high school, how would you know?” They’re back to their good-natured ribbing, a pattern they fall into as easily as breathing. Jiho wishes everything in his life was as easy as it is with Minho, even when it’s painfully difficult.

“I was actually,” Minho says, softly, like a confession. 

“Oh. Who?” 

Minho shrugs. “It doesn’t matter now. That was years ago.”

Jiho thinks about how long he’s liked Minho—been in love with Minho, because that’s what it is, he’s in love—and how, even after all these years, the only thing that’s changed is how deeply he feels. “Yeah,” he says, brushing those feelings aside. “Yeah, it was.”

* * *

Since Seungyoon’s dorm always smell like dog shit and there’s not enough room to have any privacy, Seungyoon ends up coming back to Jiho’s apartment. He brings his guitar, because that’s a thing they do now: Jiho listening to Seungyoon serenade him like it’s not the gayest thing they could be doing, ignoring the way his stomach twists, this time with guilt, because Minho would cry himself to sleep if he knew. It’s Minho, though, he’s probably already crying himself to sleep. 

Jiho busies himself with the take-out, grabbing plates and chopsticks from the dish rack that he’s been meaning to empty for days now. “What are you going to wear to Youngbae-hyung’s wedding?” 

Seungyoon shrugs, spinning slightly in Jiho’s armchair. The thing is ridiculous—who needs an armchair that spins?—but Kyung convinced him to get it. Seungyoon goes straight for it every time he’s over and it’s worth having now just to see him enjoy himself. Right now he’s swinging and scratching Jjodong’s ears. “A suit, something simple but, you know. Something that looks like I’m trying.” He flashes Jiho a grin as Jiho puts the food down in front of him. 

As sad as it is, Jiho can’t remember the last time he had a decent meal. It must show on his face because he realises a few bites in that Seungyoon is just watching him eat with a curious smile on his face, and Jiho stops. “What?”

“You’ve got sauce on your nose.” Seungyoon reaches out to wipe it off. “How’d you even manage that?” He sucks on his thumb and Jiho feels guilty, again, for the thoughts that cross his mind when Seungyoon does things like that, like licking his fingers or the noise he makes when he digs into his own food, because it’s not that Jiho’s barely eaten in days, it’s that this place does the best pork galbi in all of Seoul. So what if they get flirty sometimes? Seungyoon probably doesn’t mean anything by it, just like Jiho shouldn’t. He likes _Minho_ , he has to remind himself, _and Minho likes Seungyoon._

Reminding himself doesn’t console him, especially once they’ve finished and left their plates to congeal on the table while they lounge on the couch watching reruns of Taejoon’s episodes of _We Got Married_ , because Jiho said he was on it and Seungyoon said he wanted to see them. It’s a little weird, only because he almost had a thing with Taejoon, and now he’s almost having a thing with Seungyoon, who doesn’t have a thing with Minho, who Jiho will probably never have a thing with. It’s all a bit complex.

Seungyoon’s moved to the big couch and his feet are in Jiho’s lap. When he laughs at the scary movie scene, he digs his heels into the part of Jiho’s thigh that’s dangerously close to his dick, so Jiho grabs them and holds them still. “Sorry,” Seungyoon says, stifling his laughter with a throw pillow. 

“I’m so full, if you kicked me in the stomach it would all come back up.” Jiho rubs his stomach with one hand, still holding Seungyoon’s feet with the other.

Seungyoon scoots forward until he’s lying on the edge of the couch and tugs on Jiho’s sleeve. “Lie down, it’ll help you digest.”

“No it won’t,” Jiho says, but he lies down anyway, shoving a pillow under his head and throwing an arm around Seungyoon’s waist. “If I get heartburn it’s your fault.”

“Yeah, yeah, just blame me, hyung.” Seungyoon exhales a contented sigh and it goes straight to Jiho’s belly. He’s warm and he smells good and it’s been a long time since Jiho’s lain like this with anyone. It doesn’t surprise him when Seungyoon shuffles closer until they’re back-to-chest, making it easier for Jiho to pull him in with a hand bunched in his shirt.

“You’re going to start giving me ideas,” Jiho says, and it’s much smoother than he thought he was capable of. His heart is beating hard enough in his chest there’s no way Seungyoon can’t feel it, there’s no way when Seungyoon takes Jiho’s hand and rests it lower on his own stomach that he can’t feel how sweaty Jiho’s palm is.

The answering huff of laughter makes Jiho’s heart beat even faster. “Good ones, I hope.”

“No,” Jiho says, pitching his voice lower, “bad ones. Really, really bad ones.”

He’s not entirely surprised when Seungyoon twists until he’s facing Jiho, their legs entangling, but his breath hitches in his throat when Seungyoon brings their hands up and sucks on Jiho’s index finger. “Like that?” he asks, and Jiho has to stop the noise that threatens to escape him. Seungyoon’s own fingers are red and Jiho has the perverted thought of how they’d look wrapped around his cock; his or Seungyoon’s, it doesn’t matter. Both, yeah.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Seungyoon drops Jiho’s hand to cup the back of his neck, and when they kiss it’s more like an inevitability than anything else. It’s not like Jiho hasn’t thought about this, or dreamed about it; it’s always burning in the back of his mind when he sees Seungyoon, how soft his lips look, how good they’d feel, how good he’d taste. Pretty good, it turns out. 

“Wait,” Jiho pulls back to say, even as his animal brains kicks himself. “You know I like Minho, right? And that Minho likes you.”

“Of course,” Seungyoon says, a smile playing at his lips, “you two aren’t very subtle.”

“Right, and that makes this, what’s happening now, complicated.”

“I like you, a lot.” Seungyoon’s eyes soften as he says it. “It’s not complicated to me.”

Jiho looks over Seungyoon’s shoulder to watch Bomi and Taejoon set the balloons free. “I don’t want to use you to get over Minho.”

“Is it even likely you will get over Minho?”

Jiho grins sheepishly. “Probably not.”

“And you like me, too, don’t you?” Jiho nods. “Then nobody’s using anyone. We just are.” Seungyoon talks in such an obvious tone it makes everything he says make sense. “That’s your problem. You’re so caught up in the right and wrong of it all that you can’t just enjoy what’s in front of you. Not everything has to be a moral struggle.”

Jiho bites his lip, unsure of what to do. Seungyoon’s so close, his eyes moving as he searches Jiho’s face—for what is unclear. Maybe for surety. Maybe for Jiho to stop being scared for once. It’s that thought that has him pulling Seungyoon in closer and kissing him again, rougher this time, more than just lips but teeth and tongue, too. Seungyoon kisses back just as eagerly, and it’s happening, this, right here, with Seungyoon. Heat coils low in his belly and he bucks his hips up when Seungyoon’s hand curls around the outline of his cock. He gathers Seungyoon up and rolls on top of him, Seungyoon’s legs opening for him, wrapping around Jiho’s waist. It gives Jiho the opening to rut down against him while kissing him and feeling the length of him grow hard, and then he gets an idea.

Jiho scoots back and hits the arm before he gives up on the couch, sinking to the floor. Seungyoon leans up on his elbows with a smile pinching the corners of his lips to watch Jiho as he tugs on the tie of his pants, unsuccessfully the first few times, because Seungyoon likes it tight. 

“Need some help?” Seungyoon thinks it’s funny while Jiho’s unravelling thinking this might be the only chance he gets to do this, so he better make it worth the effort. He better be cool about it, not as someone with sweaty-palms and trembling-fingers but as someone who can make Seungyoon weak, who Seungyoon desires above all other men. He’s not doing a very good job of it, but he gets the tie undone and Seungyoon’s pants down and looks at him for the first time.

“Woah,” Jiho says, because Seungyoon is a lot, in a lot of ways. 

“Too much?” Seungyoon looks worried that Jiho is going to bolt at any second, but Jiho wants this, wants Seungyoon, in a way he’s wanted few people before. It doesn’t make sense that he can desire both Minho and Seungyoon equally. It’s probably his guilt that makes him feel greedy, but it doesn’t stop him from wrapping a hand around Seungyoon and leaning over to put his mouth on him.

* * *

Seungyoon’s glad they split into two dorms because it means he doesn’t have to see Minho when he gets back and goes straight for the kitchen. It eats at him, knowing how much Minho cares for both him and Jiho, but he tries not to think of it as a betrayal, because he likes to sleep at night. He searches through all the greens and meat in the fridge to find something sweet to sate his cravings, but the only thing that catches his eye is one Seunghoon’s drinks, tucked away in the back. If it was a betrayal, even thinking of Jiho like that before they kissed, even imagining what it would be like to kiss him, to fuck him, that would be a betrayal, too. He grabs the drink and turns it, the glass chilling his hand. But Seungyoon is his own person, a person who desires, as is Jiho. And since Minho hasn’t told Seungyoon how he feels, it’s no business of Seungyoon’s.

He puts the drink back and sighs, closing the fridge. Despite Seungyoon’s earlier protests, the situation _is_ complicated, and now Seungyoon has just muddied the waters even more. He moves into the living area where Seunghoon is stretched out on the couch with Haute on his chest and drops into the armchair. 

“What do you think about doing another episode of SeungSeung TV?”

Seunghoon lazily scratches Haute’s ears with one hand and flicks through channels with the other. “Maybe. Our fans would like it, they think they don’t get enough of us.”

“Maybe they don’t.”

“How stretched thin do you want to be?” 

It’s flippant, but it’s an honest question. Seungyoon can’t decide. He’s divvying up his time between so many different things, it’s hard to know what he’s doing for himself and what he’s doing for everyone else. Why’s he suddenly so into Jiho? It’s not like he wasn’t before, but in the face of Minho liking Seungyoon and Jiho liking Minho, it seems only natural that Seungyoon complete the triumvirate by liking Jiho, and this would be fine if Seungyoon didn’t like Minho back.

* * *

Now that Jiho’s pointed it out, Minho can’t get it out of his mind. He lies awake at night imagining how that conversation would go, the _hey I think I like you as more than a friend_ conversation, and settles on badly. Seungyoon is perceptive, and that means he knows and wants nothing to do with it. Minho scrolls idly through his Instagram feed while his head buzzes with the what-ifs and could-bes of their relationship. An ad for an adoption agency pops up and Mino watches the video of a chocolate lab puppy greeting her forever family, pretending it doesn’t get him in ways that he can only excuse for being so raw about Seungyoon. 

Fuck it, he decides. Puppies make him cry. Big deal. He’s only human. He’s cried over less, and more; he’s cried over Jiho’s lyrics before. He cried the first time he heard the demo for “Fool”, sitting in his studio after Seungyoon sent it to him, 4 in the morning or something like it, alone so he didn’t have to pretend dust was in his eye. He cried writing the lyrics for “Body”, so moved by the thought of what he was writing that it evoked a physical, visceral reaction. He’s jerked off to less, too. The few times Seungyoon has been drinking in the dorm, playing poker while Minho watched him drink straight from the bottle, his lips wrapped around the rim, his throat working, his eyes closed. The way Jiho would touch him sometimes, the feeling of his fingers on Minho’s skin, the light pressure, the whorls of his fingertips. It’s too much, feeling so strongly about the people closest to him. 

He misses Jiho’s Instagram updates. His online presence is comforting, sporadic though it is, and now it’s gone he feels… bereft. He misses Jiho, sometimes, when he’s lonely maybe, but not just then. When he’s not around, he thinks about him, and the thoughts bring him comfort at the same time leave him feeling lonelier.

It seems thinking is all he does, these days.

* * *

It’s kind of pathetic how much he misses Minho even after just a few days of watching his ridiculous parody video in between dance prac and vocal prac. The concert is coming up soon, tomorrow, and Dongwook’s new single will be out in four days, so no one can say Jiho doesn’t have a life when it’s full. As Kyung would argue, all that is technically work, but it makes Jiho happy. It’s what he really wants to be doing. Not many people can say their passion is their primary source of income, and that that income is enough to get them by. 

The rush he gets from being on stage is worth all the practice, all the hard work, all the hours spent toiling in from of a soundboard, pressing buttons until magic happens and watching the hands turn on the clock in his recording studio. Block B are chaos on stage, but it’s a carefully controlled chaos; everyone knows their parts and where and how to move, how to give the crowd what they want, how to make the best of it. He feels fulfilled in ways he can’t describe. It’s enough.

* * *

Minho corners him in his room a few days after he went over to Jiho’s, and Seungyoon forces down the urge to come clean. Corners isn’t the right word. Minho follows him in and slumps onto Seungyoon’s bed, making himself at home the way he’s always done, the way Seungyoon wants him to, because that kind of relationship is important to him. He adores Minho, he really does. He gets the way Seunghoon talks about him, as if he’s a ray of sunshine that needs to be protected, and if Seungyoon were older then he would probably feel the same way.

He tries not to look at the way Minho’s bicep flexes when he puts his hand behind his head to lean against the wall, and he’s good at that, the not looking. He’s good at a lot of things: leading his group through heartbreak; flirting with boys; pretending he isn’t into Minho for his self-preservation; self-preservation in general. He’s gotten far with that set of skills, and led WINNER with him. It doesn’t make sense to falter now, no matter how much he wants to tell Minho the number of things he wants to tell him. 

Seungyoon lies down on the bed next to Minho. He has Thor with him, because Haute was getting annoyed with him, and puts him on the bed, too, between him and Minho as a buffer. Minho reaches out to pet Thor, his expression going soft when Thor comes over to him, tail wagging and eyes bright. 

“Look at this,” Minho says, taking out his phone. He opens Kakao and scrolls through a chatroom full of pictures of Jhonny, pointing out ones he likes and commenting on them. He posts a couple of his own, and the chat moves even faster, people commenting, Minho and Seungyoon laughing at their reactions. 

“Did you tell them it was you?” Seungyoon asks.

“I left it up to interpretation.” 

Seungyoon’s half-watching the screen and half-watching Minho without looking like he is. “They’ve guessed it’s you.”

“Yeah.” Minho adds two more and the chat moves faster, the users getting more worked up, before it starts moving too fast and Minho closes it. “I thought it would be nice. Now they have more pictures of Jhonny.” When he smiles at Seungyoon it’s full of the kind of love that spills out of Minho, unable as he is to keep it all in. Seungyoon’s known for a while now, and it’s made his own attraction to Minho harder to bear. It would be so easy, and so complicated to kiss Minho right now. He’s right there, and Seungyoon knows he would kiss back. 

“Listen, Seungyoonie,” Minho says, and Seungyoon cuts him off.

“I know what you’re going to say, but don’t. You’re a friend to me, a good friend.” Seungyoon ignores the ache in his chest and the urge to reach out and pull Minho in. It’s okay for him to fuck around with Jiho, because he can keep his cool with Jiho, he won’t let it overwhelm him, and if it turns out badly at least they’re not putting the careers of other people in jeopardy. He can’t do that with Minho. It’s too tempting, and it would take over them, if they gave in to it. 

Minho’s looks away with a rueful smile. “I was going to say I drank one the last of those apple drinks in your fridge. I would’ve gotten some more but I don’t know where sells them.”

“Oh.” Seungyoon clears his throat, immediately sorry for putting Minho through that. “It’s okay, there’s Seunghoon-hyung’s anyway. He won’t be mad.”

Minho makes a non-committal noise and looks away. It’s hard for Seungyoon to lie, but he needs to, he needs to hurt Minho just a little so that he won’t hurt him later. 

“Did you see Jiho?” It’s innocent enough. Minho doesn’t mean anything by it, Seungyoon knows, but the feeling of being caught out boils under his skin, and he searches desperately for an answer that won’t give him away.

“Yeah, he was really excited about the comeback. Did you see any video of last night’s concert?”

Minho nods, unlocking his phone again. “He looked so good on stage. Their choreo is a mess but they always look good, they look like they have fun.” He pulls up a fancam of Jiho during “Movie’s Over” where he’s practically in the crowd and sweating through his white shirt that does things to Seungyoon, things it shouldn’t while Minho sits next to him, so close their shoulders are touching.

Seungyoon wonders if Minho is jealous, if maybe he’d rather be having fun with them than with WINNER. It’s not a fair thought to have. “Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you had debuted with Block B?”

Minho looks confused for half a second and that answers Seungyoon’s question. “I used to, but not anymore. WINNER is where I’m meant to be.”

“If you could trade, if you could be with Jiho and Kyung and Jihoon, standing on that stage with them, would you?” That’s not fair of him either, to ask those kinds of questions, questions that test Minho’s resolve or serve to expose him. If what Seungyoon means to give is a test, Minho passes easily.

“Not anymore.”


	2. Chapter 2

Minho’s been worked up for days, damn near crawling out of his skin every time Seungyoon’s in the room with him, using up the last of the hot water jerking off in the shower every morning, trying not to notice Seungyoon walking around naked all the time, just like he hasn’t the five years they’ve known each other. Seungyoon’s rejection has only seemed to fuel his feelings, or at least his attraction, like the ultimate in masochism. 

He thinks of talking to someone about it, but the only person he wants to talk to is Jiho, and they’ve never had that kind of relationship. They always verged on the idea of something happening between them but they kept it inside, both of them afraid, Minho could tell, of their friendship falling apart. It didn’t seem worth it, to tempt fate in that kind of way for the promise of something that might not work out, when what they have now is fulfilling enough. 

While Seungyoon is out, Minho and Seunghoon head to the valentino pop-up in Hongdae, living the life Minho always wanted to of glamour and high fashion, and it takes his mind off things. He doesn’t have to be about how much he likes Seungyoon, that’s not the only thing in his life. He’s been drawing more, making art to post on Instagram if he wants to, if he thinks it’s good enough, and he’s been working on a few things, trying to up his fashion game and be the trendsetter he was last year. They’re always working on songs, he and this time Seunghoon, especially with their upcoming Japanese release, the upcoming album, and they never really stop working.

* * *

The wedding is beautiful, as Seungyoon expected. There aren’t any cameras in the venue except the ones Youngbae wanted for himself, so it gives them the freedom to get a little tipsy and be themselves without having to perform for an audience. 

Seunghoon pulls him up to dance and Seungyoon goes, laughing when Seunghoon puts his own hand on Seungyoon’s shoulder. “You’re distracted,” Seunghoon says, not unkindly. 

“I know. I can’t help it right now.” It feels like a relief to admit it and he relaxes, gripping Seunghoon’s waist and palm. It doesn’t surprise him that Seunghoon’s noticed; he was always the one to keep Seungyoon on track when Minho is too faint-hearted and Jinwoo and Taehyun too caught up in trying their best to notice what he was going through. 

“Be careful,” Seunghoon says as he starts to lead despite their positions, pulling Seungyoon in close, “not to get in the way of yourself.” It’s the kind of gentle reminder Seungyoon needs to keep himself focused, not mired down in things that stop him from leading WINNER to be the best band they can be.

“What if my heart and my head are disagreeing? I know I should be one way, but I feel so many other ways it’s hard to keep track.” It’s only when he says these things out loud that he realises how true they are, as if keeping them shut up inside himself meant they were only pretend worries, and not the real thing. 

“Don’t let your heart take over. It’s only a muscle.”

“So’s my brain.”

“Yeah, and your brain can be an idiot sometimes.”

Seungyoon laughs into his hyung’s shoulder, not that anyone would mind. It’s a celebratory event, and everyone else is laughing, too, having a good time, enjoying themselves. It’s only fair that Seungyoon do the same. 

Seunghoon picks up the pace, leading Seungyoon around the dancefloor, and while the other dancers cut them a wide berth and Jinwoo and Minho laugh from the sidelines, Seungyoon remembers how much he loves his life, and his job, and his family. He thinks of Jiho, and how far his family extends, and it’s complicated, but it’s nothing he can’t handle.

* * *

Jiho’s flicking through Instagram on his laptop when he sees the videos from the Nylon shoot. The shoots WINNER have done lately, and Jiho knows because he’s been paying attention, have been more intense than in previous years. Their comeback the year before heralded in a new era for them, something different and more mature than the puppy jumpers and poolside photoshoots where they were fully clothed and dry. They’ve matured so much in such a short span of time, it’s incredible to think about, as is watching them grow from their infancy, musically and emotionally. 

This shoot, though. Minho’s button-fly is undone for some of it, and the shoot is serious but intense, low lighting, sultry music, close ups of Minho’s hands, nothing short of sexy. Minho and Jinwoo whisper into Seungyoon’s ear and Jiho must have a compersion kink because once the thought of watching Seungyoon and Minho together enters his mind it won’t leave. He takes his laptop to his bed and settles in, unzipping his jeans to push his hand in while he pauses the video with the other. 

Even though he’s give it all of eight seconds of thought, he has a pretty good idea of how he’d want it to go: Minho pulling Seungyoon in, desperate to kiss him, and Seungyoon not just relenting but actively wanting it, too, holding Minho down, threading fingers through his hair as they kiss, open mouthed, hungry. Jiho starts to stroke himself, working up a rhythm that’s comfortable but not as good as the way Seungyoon touched him last week, confidently, knowing how good he is at it. Minho would love to be dominated, of that much Jiho is sure after having known him for more than three minutes, would love to be held and told he’s doing well, he’s so good, that Seungyoon loves him so much. 

Seungyoon would fuck Minho, and Minho would love that too, getting on his hands and knees and being dicked raw, feeling Seungyoon’s cock open him up and easily hit that spot inside him that lights him up. Jiho could join in, or he could hang back, either one, it doesn’t matter, even just getting to see it, to see Seungyoon fuck Minho while Minho pants and gasps and tries to keep himself together, back bowing, face in the sheets and his ass in the air, that would be enough. Just thinking about it now, Jiho comes into his underwear with a cry. 

Maybe if Seungyoon wasn’t heading to Japan Jiho could call him up and they could fool around, but he wonders if that’s the kind of relationship they’re going to have. They haven’t talked about it. Jiho suspects it’s because Seungyoon wants to keep it a secret, and by speaking about it they’re making it more real, more of a weapon that could hurt Minho just by consequence. Maybe it’s just casual. Maybe it’s just a one-time thing. Maybe Jiho’s overthinking things and the haze of arousal has passed since he got off. It’s hot now that his heart rate is up and he’s sweating slightly under the heater. Maybe it doesn’t matter as much as he thought it did, liking Seungyoon, when Seungyoon seems to have more on his plate than he ever lets on. Maybe it’s not that big a deal. 

Jiho sighs and heads to the bathroom to clean himself up. That’s a lot of maybes.

* * *

Tokyo almost feels like home at this point. They get there late, and they fuck around taking photos of themselves and each other on the streets, enjoying being out in the night, together, on mission but free all the same. They spend the next few days filling up their instagram pages and it’s not for another five days that they actually get to perform. It is, if not bliss, then something close to it.

And Seungyoon just has to ruin it. Gone are the days of double rooms—they make their company a lot of money, they know how much they’re worth—and Seungyoon would have been grateful for that if his mind wasn’t split in so many ways he was scrambling to keep up with his thoughts. Guilt is the thing that trips him up: guilt about lying to Minho through omission, about sleeping with Minho’s best friend. His footsteps as he walks down the hallway are heavy, and his mind full. 

Minho’s lying on his bed in a robe he quickly covers himself with when Seungyoon walks in. He doesn’t look like he’s doing anything except lying down, and he did leave the door unlocked, but Seungyoon still feels bad about barging in, and what he’s about to do.

“You look upset,” Minho says, and indicates the other side of the bed for Seungyoon to sit, which he does, on the edge, anxiety overwhelming him. 

“There’s something I need to tell you.” Minho’s eyebrows shoot up but he doesn’t say anything. Seungyoon takes a deep breath. “I slept with Jiho-hyung. We had sex. It wasn’t planned before we did it, it just—I know it’s a lame excuse but it just happened. The feelings have been there for a while, we just never acted on them until a couple weeks ago. It hasn’t happened since, but we’ve been busy with our separate schedules.”

As Seungyoon speaks, Minho’s expression darkens, and he becomes increasingly sadder. There’s no other word for it, Minho is upset, as much as he tries to hide it. His brow creases and he looks away, pulling his robe tighter around himself. 

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you deserve to know.” It’s the truth, and Minho deserves the truth. He also deserves not to feel betrayed by two of his best friends, but Seungyoon needs catharsis, and maybe Minho will see, in time, that it’s better for him to come clean. It’s better for all of them. 

“Do you want it to happen again?” Minho’s voice is small, and he’s still looking at the floor instead of Seungyoon.

“Yes,” Seungyoon says. There’s so much more he needs to say, but he’s not sure he has the words. “How I feel and what I do with Jiho, it—it has nothing to do with how I feel for you. Please understand that.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Minho looks at him then, really looks, the hurt evident on his face and in his body language. “Do you have feelings for me, then?”

Seungyoon nods. It’s as close as he’s ever come to admitting, after all these years, that Minho is more than just a friend to him. 

“Then why show it by sleeping with Jiho? The one person who—” He pauses to collect himself. “I knew this was going to happen. From the first time you met, I knew Jiho-hyung was going to do something like this.”

“We’re both adults,” Seungyoon says, “I made the decision just as much as he did.”

“I know.” Minho scrubs his hands over his face, clearly frustrated, probably with Seungyoon, and probably with himself a little, too. “Did you have to, though? I can’t help but feel it has something to do with me.”

Seungyoon pulls his feet onto the bed and his knees up to his chest. It’s as much protection as Minho pulling his robe tighter around himself. “Maybe it does. But we like each other, and, if it does go badly, at least I won’t take a whole group down with me.”

It’s a bad place to leave it, but Minho doesn’t stop Seungyoon from leaving, and it’s only when Seungyoon reaches his own room that he realises how much he’s shaking. He texts Jiho, a quick _I told him, he knows now, sorry if you wanted to break it to him but I couldn’t stand the secrecy_ , and then he lies awake for a while thinking about all the ways he could’ve handled that better.

* * *

There’s a two day overlap of WINNER and Block B both being in Japan that starts the weeks-long break they’ll have from seeing each other and it’s too good an opportunity to pass up. Jiho texts Seungyoon, and they both slip away from their managers like thieves in the night to meet up. 

Jiho takes a car with keys he pickpocketed from their bodyguard and pulls up outside Seungyoon’s hotel. It’s so good to see him that Jiho feels something unclench in his chest that might be anxiety and might be stress but is lessened just in Seungyoon’s presence, a calming influence the kind seen only from Hindu cows. 

Seungyoon leans over to kiss him as soon as he’s in the car and it takes Jiho by surprise, but he kisses back. 

“I thought we should get that out of the way. I missed you. Hi.” Seungyoon smiles and closes the door. The overhead light switches off and bathes them in darkness. Anyone could have seen but Jiho can’t find it in him to care. 

“Hi.” He feels his lips tingle as he pulls out of the hotel and drives off. “I missed you, too.” They chat about the concerts and how Seungyoon never gets sick of Japan but he can’t wait for this mess to be over and wants to sleep in his bed until it is. 

“So he’s been…” Jiho starts. He drives with no destination in mind, careful of pedestrians and stop lights. 

“He’s been fine. On stage, for Instagram, everything seems perfect. He even came to me the day after and said it wasn’t fair of him to stop us from being together.” There’s a hint of despondency in Seungyoon’s tone; he’s not happy with Minho’s response, because it’s not genuine. “It’s amazing how well he’s been able to keep up appearances.”

“He never was that good an actor before.” Jiho finds a place to park and turns the engine off. People are up all hours of the night, and it’s not that different to Seoul. “Maybe we shouldn’t, you know. If it’s going to be too difficult and cause friction between you two. That’s not what I want.”

“What about what you do want?” Seungyoon’s eyes reflect the light of the streetlamps and the brightly lit convenience store they’re parked in front of, and his expression is so naked, so yearning Jiho has to stop himself from looking away. It’s a look he’s entitled to, as Seungyoon’s… whatever he is to Seungyoon.

“To be with you.” Until he says it out loud, he hadn’t even given it much thought, so wrapped up in what he thought Seungyoon wanted. 

“That’s what I want, too.”

“Oh.” Jiho lets a smile creep across his face, trying not to let it overwhelm him until Seungyoon smiles back. “I didn’t think you would.”

“What, you think I’m that heartless that I would hook up with one of my best friends without feeling anything for him?” Seungyoon’s blush is adorable in the semi-darkness, and he picks at the hem of his sweater, looking at his hands. 

“No, nothing like that. You’re just too cool for me. I thought you’d want to take it slow.” 

Seungyoon looks up at him, his expression serious, his tone serious. “I really like you. I wanted to make that obvious.”

“Yeah,” Jiho says, feeling his throat constrict. “Me too.”

They both lean in at the same time and meet in the middle, lips brushing, Jiho’s heartbeat picking up speed. The kiss stays languid for a few seconds before Seungyoon breaks away. 

“Can we go somewhere?”

Jiho shrugs. “I don’t really know anywhere, and honestly I’d rather not get caught with my dick out while I’m technically on a work vacation.”

Seungyoon laughs. “Not even for some heavy making out?”

Jiho groans, leaning back against the headrest. “As much as I would love to, I have to get you back before anyone discovers you’re gone, Cinderella.”

Seungyoon sighs, but accepts it. “Sure, take me away.”

The drive back is mostly in relative silence. There’s no stick shift in the car so Jiho takes the opportunity to hold Seungyoon’s hand, as lame as he feels for doing it until Seungyoon squeezes his fingers. 

“I’ll talk to him,” Jiho promises. “Tomorrow maybe. You guys don’t fly out until the 15th, right?”

Seungyoon nods. “Does this mean we’re dating now?” He pouts his lips like he’s trying not to smile, and when Jiho says yes, of course, obviously, Seungyoon takes Jiho’s face in both his hands and kisses him, and kisses him, until they absolutely have to break away. 

It’s the last they see of each other in person for a while.


	3. Chapter 3

If Japan felt like bliss, Los Angeles feels like a dream. Minho tries to capture the city’s vibrancy and the life of the architecture in his photos and spends his spare time roaming, trying to ingest as much as he can of it. Seungyoon gives him space, only occasionally taking his picture and leaving him alone during the parts of filming where they don’t have to interact. Seunghoon and Jinwoo don’t say anything but It feels like his loneliness is leaking out of him onto everything he touches, from the whorls of his fingertips and out of his sweat under the Inglewood sun. 

Jiho calls him, and even though Minho’s kind of expecting it and kind of dreading it, it’s good to hear his voice. 

“Hey,” Jiho says, and Minho has to close his eyes against the cascade of _want_ and _good_ and _this is what I need_ because it’s just one word and Minho should be able to get a hold of himself. 

“Hey. It’s been a while.”

“Sorry I haven’t called sooner.” He sounds sorry, too, as if it’s been weighing on his mind the same way it’s been weighing on Minho’s, a dead weight, an ocean of weight. “I’ve been busy with—”

“The concerts, yeah.” Minho lets out a sigh that he doesn’t mean. “I know, of course. Yeah.”

A silence rings out over the line and Minho holds his breath until it ends with Jiho asking, “Can I say I miss you without it being weird?”

“Of course. I miss you too.” He more than misses Jiho, but he doesn’t know what it means let alone how to express it. It’s like a feeling of homesickness, or aching want. He wants to be around Jiho, to see him while he hears him. “Hold on, let me—” Minho clicks the video button and when Jiho accepts his face comes into view, looking worn out but in the good kind of way. It’s day time for him there, and Minho’s still awake even though he should be asleep, is just crashing on his hotel bed in his street clothes while he waits for his brain to unwind. 

“You look tired,” Jiho says, frowning, as if he has the gall to be angry about Minho’s tiredness, as if he can stop it. Minho’s always tired. Something is always happening to make Minho tired and if Jiho was angry about every little thing he’d never have any time in the day to do anything else. It’s a nice sentiment, though.

Minho scrubs a hand over his face and smiles when he’s done. “Does it make you want to take care of me? You’re acting like Minhye-noona.”

“Yeah, a bit.” Jiho smiles like he’s embarrassed. “Yeah, I want to take care of you. Make sure you’re eating, give you honey for your voice.” It’s Minho’s turn to blush, and he always does when Jiho says things like that, doting on him. “I wish I was there with you to make you feel better.”

It’s absurd the things Jiho says to Minho that he says to no one else, that he wouldn’t say to Kyung or probably even Seungyoon, that he’s been saying to Minho since they were trainees. He seems to just know how Minho’s feeling, and that’s less out how it rolls off Minho in waves and more about how much Jiho is used to him, how well he knows him. Minho’s always kind of hungry now and he wishes for the take-out meals they’d share in their shitty basement with the cracked lighting and mouldy floors, when they’d lick chicken grease off their fingers for hours afterwards, revelling in the fact they were together, and no one could take that away from them. He feels even sadder thinking about it and rubs his sleeve over his eyes so that Jiho doesn’t see how wet they are. 

“Minho,” Jiho says, because of course he sees anyway.

“Sorry, hyung. Let’s talk about something.”

Jiho’s empathetic response shows on his face. “How’s LA?”

“Good, really good. Seunghoon-hyung’s sick of me bugging him with my camera. We ate In-N-Out for the first time, and Jinwoo-hyung made me get it animal style. Seungyoon—” He stops, because he’s still raw. Seungyoon nothing. Seungyoon everything. It’s not like his world stops and starts with Seungyoon, but in a way, his life with WINNER does. Seungyoon took care of him when he came to YG, and now Minho’s here, pining over him while he dates Minho’s best friend. “Seungyoon’s good. You must miss him, too.”

Jiho nods. “I do. We saw each other a few days ago, before you left. We, uh, snuck out.” A smile crosses Jiho’s face, and it hurts a little, that maybe Jiho reserves that smile for Seungyoon only. Minho’s never seen it before. It must be new.

Minho yawns and settles down further into the bed. “What did you do?”

“Just drove around. Nagoya’s really pretty at night.”

“So’s Seungyoon,” Minho says, not without irony, and Jiho laughs. He looks like he might be blushing, but it’s hard to tell when they’re an ocean apart. 

All of these things weigh heavy on Minho’s mind until he begs off with an excuse to sleep, and Jiho lets him go. It will be a while, weeks, before they see each other again, but Minho needs time to deal with it all, and Jiho is nice about it. He gives Minho that.

* * *

They’re taking pictures of diners and streetlamps when Minho walks over to Seungyoon’s street corner. 

Jinwoo watches them interact, the awkward way Minho holds his body, the feigned nonchalance, how Seungyoon hugs his camera. The way they dance around each other, and have been for years, is this masochistic game no one wins. Jinwoo’s been tempted to lock them in a closet before, but that would solve nothing; they’d leave knowing even less about what they should do than when they entered. He doesn’t know whether to spell it out for them, because at this rate they’d never work out what’s going on between them.

But something must have happened. Minho’s been cagey for a week, Seungyoon’s been singing even more than usual, and it doesn’t add up. Locking them in a closet now would just lead to tears or wounds, and Jinwoo loves them too much to let them do that to each other. 

“I’m happy for you,” Minho says, not really looking it. “For you and Jiho. You know that, right?”

Seungyoon nods. “Thank you.”

“I know you’ll be good to him, and him to you.”

Ah, Jiho. The complicating element in The Love Story of Kang Seungyoon and Song Minho. As if things needed to be more complicated. Minho glances over at Jinwoo, who cocks his head, unashamed of listening in because when it concerns two people he cares so deeply about it concerns him too. 

But Minho seems to become embarrassed and makes an abortive move to touch Seungyoon, dropping his hand at the last minute, before he walks away, shoulders hunched, camera clenched in his hand.

* * *

As soon as they cross the threshold to Seungyoon’s room, Seungyoon’s mouth is on Jiho’s and he’s backing him up against the door. He can’t wait any longer; they haven’t seen each other in two weeks and it was beginning to feel like they never would. Seungyoon can go a long time without sex but being denied even Jiho’s company was too much, especially after getting together the first time and understanding, really knowing and experiencing, how good it could be. 

Jiho kisses back, hands on Seungyoon’s hips to pull him closer, fingers slipping beneath his shirt to touch his skin. Seungyoon sighs into the touch and that’s all Jiho needs to lift Seungyoon’s shirt over his head and expose more places to touch. Jiho’s hands are warm and sure and eager, stroking down Seungyoon’s abs, thumbing over his nipples, pressing into the divots of Seungyoon’s hips while they kiss again. 

Somehow they end up on the bed, their clothes half-off and Jiho’s hand in Seungyoon’s underwear while he kicks off his jeans. Jiho presses his lips to Seungyoon’s chest and stomach while he shucks his own clothes and when they’re finally naked Seungyoon feels as though he’s on fire everywhere their skin touches. Jiho rolls them until he’s on top, cradling Seungyoon’s head against the pillow, digging his fingers into the swell of Seungyoon’s ass with his other hand. It’s unusual for Jiho to take control like this, to be so assertive when it has nothing to do with rapping on stage or Block B, and it turns Seungyoon on even more to give up control and just go with it. He doesn’t realise how much he loves it until Jiho pushes his long fingers in and opens Seungyoon up, stretching him with his whole fist, licking into him at the same time until he comes and watches, breathless, as Jiho licks the mess from his stomach.

* * *

Jiho’s slipping out of Seungyoon’s dorm when he runs into Minho into the hallway, looking like he’s been napping but not really sleeping. There’s a moment of awkwardness where Jiho wonders whether he should explain what he’s doing here while he waits for Minho to explain the same thing, before Minho breaks into a smile and pulls Jiho in for a hug.

“It’s been over a month. I actually missed your face, can you believe that?”

Jiho laughs and squeezes. “We saw each other a week ago.”

“Yeah, but we haven’t been in the same room in, like, five weeks.”

Jiho can feel Minho burying his nose in Jiho’s shoulder, and wonders if he can smell what Jiho was just doing with Seungyoon, and winces when Minho digs his chin into the teeth marks Seungyoon left. He follows Minho down to the studio and they crash out on the couch while Minho plays iKon’s new song and whatever he’s been working on himself. His rap is lazier now, softer, less rigid, less like he needs to prove something and more like he’s finally found the place he’s wanted to be for the past decade. Jiho listens to WINNER all the time, he’s grown used to hearing Minho’s voice change over the years, but it’s nice listening to him rap along now, watching his mouth form the tone Jiho knows so well.

“Did you see Seungyoon?” Mino keeps eye contact when he asks, his expression blank. Maybe it’s just an innocent question, or maybe Minho’s looking for more ways to beat himself up.

Jiho isn’t sure how much he should share. It’s uncharted territory for them. “Yeah, that’s where I was coming from.” 

“Figures. You look well-sexed.”

Minho says it like he defies Jiho to disagree and Jiho bursts out laughing. “What can I say to that?”

“Just admit you and Seungyoon are going to be dicking each other’s brains out from now on.”

Jiho laughs again, but it’s more uncomfortable this time, the whole conversation veering into things they don’t talk about. Minho looks cool about it, like he’s practiced this, his game face for when he dunks on Jiho about what he plans to do with the love of Minho’s life. They’re sitting entirely too close for Jiho to be comfortable sharing those kinds of details with someone he’s not sleeping with. 

“What would you know about what two men do together?” Jiho counters, and Minho blushes.

Minho leans over into Jiho’s space until his mouth and Jiho’s ear are an inch apart. Jiho resists the urge to flinch. “I know more than you think.” When he pulls back, he’s staring at Jiho’s lips and brings his thumb up to wipe across the bottom one. “Your lip is red.” 

He looks like he wants to close the distance, but he’s not going to, Jiho knows, because of Seungyoon. Which is the way it should be, Jiho reminds himself, because he’s with Seungyoon now, and Minho shouldn’t be trying anything with Jiho, not now that he can’t. 

Jiho does flinch away this time, and hurt flashes across Minho’s expression. “Minho-yah, don’t.”

“Sorry, hyung,” Minho says, but he doesn’t look it. He looks hungry. Minho’s so close Jiho can smell his aftershave, the traces of sweat lingering under it, and the scent of sleep mingling through it all. It does things to him, still. “It was you, you know that? The person I liked in high school. It was you.”

Jiho leaves soon after, so turned on that he considers going back to Seungyoon’s dorm for another round. By the time he hits the street it’s almost eight in the morning, and the sun blinds him for several moments before he can find his car and leave YG behind.


	4. Chapter 4

Seunghoon goes to Mexico and, when he’s not pulling Jiho onto every surface in the apartment, Seungyoon pines. He has a countdown app on his phone waiting to go off when Seunghoon touches down in Seoul, and he looks at it at least three times a day as if that will make the time go faster. Jiho would be jealous if he wasn’t so assured of his place in Seungyoon’s life.

“You don’t get it,” Seungyoon says, when Jiho catches him looking at it. “We’ve spent every day of the past six years together. We live together now. We’re practically platonic life partners.” He plays with Jiho’s hair while Jiho sits on the floor between Seungyoon’s thighs, his nails lightly scratching Jiho’s scalp in a soothing way. 

“Uh, you have met Kyung, my better half, right?” Jiho leans into the sensation, tipping his head back and looking up at Seungyoon. “The guy I’m practically married to? Who I’ve known since we were five? I lived with him for about as long, but I didn’t pine over him when I was in Japan.”

“We’ve been through a lot.” Seungyoon seems adamant in professing his undying affection for Seunghoon, and Jiho is amused enough to push him a little. “ _WIN_ , Taehyun leaving, our hiatus, almost breaking up.”

“That’s a lot,” Jiho says, feeling the dourness of the mood come over him. “At least you have someone to share in that with. I understand going through a rough time.”

“Oh, you would, wouldn’t you?” Seungyoon smiles down at him and pushes his hair off his forehead. It’s an overly fond look, and Jiho is too smitten to resist the kiss Seungyoon plants on his lips as he leans over. It’s weird, kissing upside down, and Jiho feels a bit like Spiderman, but it turns heated quickly and he reaches up to cup Seungyoon’s face. They break apart when they hear the door connecting their apartments open and look up to find Jinwoo walking in. He glances at them and pulls a face.

“Why are you two naked?”

Seungyoon shrugs. It’s not the first time they’ve been walked in on, but usually they do have clothes on. It’s the first time it’s happened since Seunghoon’s been away, and they have spent an awful lot of time naked in Seungyoon and Seunghoon’s apartment since then. Jinwoo covers his eyes.

“I just came to get some ramen, but whatever. I’ll come back later.”

“Come back never,” Jiho jokes, and Jinwoo flips him off before closing the door. “Well that was interesting.”

“Yeah,” Seungyoon says, with a look forming in his eye. “I kinda like it. The thought of someone walking in on us.”

Jiho can feel his eyebrows rise. “You’ve never told me this before.” Seungyoon shrugs again. “Is that what gets you hot? Voyeurism? You want someone to watch us?”

The look on Seungyoon’s face intensifies and that answers Jiho’s questions. He returns to his apartment that night well fucked to the point of still being dizzy, sated in a way that he only gets when he’s with Seungyoon.

* * *

Seungyoon’s wish comes true two days later when they’re fucking on the living room floor of his apartment. Jiho knows it’s because he’s missing Seunghoon that he’s looking for comfort in other ways, but he doesn’t mind so much as he’s grateful it’s him Seungyoon’s looking to for comfort. He barely gets in the door before Seungyoon’s dragging him in, pulling him onto the floor, tearing at his clothes, pushing him onto his back. Jiho goes willingly, submitting to this new, more aggressive side of Seungyoon, who is usually content to go along with whatever Jiho’s doing. He _wants_ in a way Jiho hasn’t seen before, and it’s hot, and thrilling, and exciting, and Jiho loves it.

Their clothes get tossed aside and Seungyoon reaches for the bottle of lube that got kicked under the cabinet the day before and slicks himself up. The image of Seungyoon with his fingers disappearing inside himself is so hot that Jiho is hard already, ready for when Seungyoon sinks down on his cock, the hot clutch of him, the warmth of him inside. 

Seungyoon sinks down all the way before he exhales a contented sigh. “Good morning,” he says. His hair is still a mess and he feels warm from sleep, looking like he just woke up. It’s a good look. Jiho wants to see how much more he can mess Seungyoon up. 

“It’s afternoon.” Jiho wonders how he had the coordination to start a round of sex when now he’s here he looks like he just wants to fall asleep again. “You slept the whole morning away. I didn’t want to come over too early because I knew you wouldn’t be awake.”

“You could have woken me up. I missed you. You can come sleep with me, we don’t do that enough.” Seungyoon tends to gush when he’s tired, less articulate and more emotional than he usually is, and Jiho wonders if this is the real Seungyoon, this unguarded and open person who doesn’t have to cherry-pick his words, who doesn’t have to be switched on at all hours of the day because he’s not in front of a camera. Jiho loves seeing him this way, and loves that he gets to see it.

Seungyoon waits a minute or two before he starts moving, rolling his hips with a leisurely, measured pace. Jiho grabs onto Seungyoon’s hips and manages not to come immediately, riding it out while Seungyoon rides him, bent over, leaning his weight on Jiho’s shoulders. He doesn’t notice straight away that the door is open until it slides and hits the wall, and both of them snap their attention to Minho watching them, stunned. 

Seungyoon doesn’t stop. He keeps eye contact with Minho, who has yet to move, still riding Jiho with that relentless pace, and Jiho gets it now, Seungyoon’s voyeurism thing, because Minho watching them is just as hot as anything Seungyoon does to him.

Minho seems to finally snap out of it and turns, before he turns back, doing something with his hands like he might cover his eyes before he shuts them.

“Sorry, I—interrupting, I didn’t mean. Fuck, sorry, um.”

He goes to close the door before Seungyoon calls out, “Wait.” He’s warmer now and sweating slightly, his whole body and all his joints flushed pink. Jiho’s grip is harder to maintain and he’s teetering on the edge of coming after only a few minutes.

Minho looks at them, his face flaming, before he glances away. “Uh. Yeah?”

Seungyoon does stop this time, to catch his breath maybe, and says, “You can watch.”

The tension in the room thickens like sauna air and Jiho latches onto the only thing he can see through his swimming vision: Minho’s expression, as though he doesn’t know what to do with himself, torn between shock and lust. “Can I—what?”

“Watch.” Seungyoon says it so patiently, so innocently, as if he’s suggesting a round of mahjong and not letting Minho join in on a private experience between two people who are probably in love—Jiho’s not kidding himself, it’s been a long time coming—and who like to fuck each other’s brains out. 

Seungyoon glances down at Jiho. “Is that okay?”

_Is that okay._ Is it okay to bring the guy Jiho’s been lusting over into their sexcapades? Is it okay to involve Minho in something only they share, because there’s room for him, too? Is it okay to air one of Jiho’s deepest fantasies, one that he didn’t know existed until just now?

“ _Yeah_ , that’s okay.”

Minho looks at them then, at where their bodies are joined, at Seungyoon’s hard and leaking cock, before he takes a step into the room.

“Close the door behind you,” Seungyoon says, still as patient, still as inviting. 

Minho obeys and steps further into the room, looking self conscious as Jiho and Seungyoon watch him take a seat in the armchair, and only then does Seungyoon start moving again. He rides Jiho like he’s trying to leave an impression, for him and for Minho probably, putting on a show, rising up to his full height and touching his own chest, his nipples, his cock, putting his hands everywhere. Jiho is transfixed at the sight of him, as he always is, and when he tips his head back to look up at Minho, he seems about the same, his mouth open, his hands clenched around his knees, leaning forward as if to get closer, or as if he’s forgotten how to work his body.

Jiho wants to put on a show too, so he bucks his hips and tips Seungyoon forward only to roll them until he’s on top. He pushes Seungyoon’s knees up to his chest to get into position and starts thrusting, turning it into a rhythm that has Seungyoon crying out. In a couple of days they’ve gone from giggling during sex as they get to know each other’s bodies, to making each other come so hard it hurts. Jiho wants to show Minho just how good he can be at this, something that wasn’t as natural to him when Minho first knew him, when they were stupid teenagers who thought their careers were the most important thing they could achieve. They could have been doing this the whole time if they talked about it long enough to say they didn’t want to ruin their friendship and went for it anyway, but as usual it took Seungyoon assessing the cons of the situation and pressing forward anyway for something to actually happen. It’s always Seungyoon, in the end, who makes things happen.

Jiho leans over to kiss him, to swallow down the sounds he makes. He’s so close to coming, all it takes is looking up to catch Minho’s gaze before he does, spilling inside Seungyoon’s body. It doesn’t take much for Seungyoon to follow, clenching around Jiho’s softening cock, but when he glances up again Minho is gone.

* * *

It’s not like Minho’s never thought about it, Seungyoon and Jiho together. Minho used to think, Jiho’s such a sensitive guy he’d probably like it slow and intimate, more making love than anything else, but he never thought he’d actually get to see it. He disappears before they notice he’s gone because he’s already come in his pants just at the sight, without even touching himself, and that’s embarrassing enough, he didn’t want to stick around for the awkward chat afterward. 

He breezes past Jinwoo, who’s doing airplanes with Rei, and heads straight for the bathroom.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Jinwoo calls after him.

“UTI,” Minho calls back, because anything is less awkward and strange than what actually happened. He showers quickly, efficiently, dumping his soiled clothes in the hamper in his room 

He welcomes Seunghoon’s reappearance, because it means he won’t be caught walking in on Jiho and Seungyoon. He can’t fathom what this means for them, for their relationships, and needs to get his head in order and put distance between both of them before he can even try to figure it out. At the same time he’s running through a play-by-play that’s going to be fueling his fantasies for years, his brain tries to conjure up a plan for seeing them again.


	5. Chapter 5

Seunghoon returns from Mexico, and Seungyoon and Jiho’s honeymoon period of raucous sex and constant nudity ends, and Jiho’s glad in a way, because Seungyoon was wearing him out. He doesn’t need that much social contact, or that much sex, before his battery runs low and he needs to recharge by himself. He’s been neglecting everyone else while he’s been wrapped up in Seungyoon, too, and so he calls Kyung up just to hang.

“To be honest,” Kyung says, “I’m glad you found someone.” He’s lying on the same couch Seungyoon and Jiho fucked on, but Jiho’s not about to tell him. “You seem different, too.”

Jiho mulls this over. “What do you mean, different?”

Kyung shrugs, falling back on the couch. He’s surprisingly ineloquent when they’re not writing songs, preferring to save all his wit for shows. “Dunno. Happier, I guess. Less of a sad sack of shit. What are we doing for the anniversary? Jihoon suggested writing letters.”

Jiho is itching to get back in the studio, but he doesn’t know how to express that when all he’s done recently is hang out with Seungyoon. He feels like he’s been neglecting all the other areas of his life where Seungyoon isn’t, and now everything has become about him. Seungyoon, Seungyoon, _Seungyoon_ , a breath and a sound and an action all at once. He’s with Seungyoon, he breathes Seungyoon, he does Seungyoon. It’s all a little too much, at times. He feels bowled over with how much he feels.

“Letters, yeah. That’s a good idea.”

Kyung seems to sense how out of it Jiho is, how much he needs to be alone for a while, so he gets up and sees himself out. Before he goes, he turns back to Jiho. “Come back to Instagram. All the fans miss your face, for whatever reason. Because they love you. Stop wallowing already.”

Jiho lets him go without another word, letting the silence of his apartment wash over him. He’ll catch up with everyone else later. Soon. Tomorrow.

* * *

Days pass, and then weeks, and their frantic fucking turns into something less frantic, less desperate, knowing they’ll see each other again and not needing so badly when they don’t. Seungyoon is happy, maybe the happiest he’s ever been since WINNER debuted, and he feels this lightness in his chest whenever he sees Jiho that he can’t explain. It feels like an air bubble lifting him. It inspires him, but as badly as he wants to rewrite lyrics to fit his mood they’ve already recorded the songs, and it’s not like he isn’t writing constantly, only taking breaks when they have concerts or they promote, and they haven’t started yet. He forgives himself for being this love-crazed doormat, and spends more hours playing keys and strumming chords and letting himself soak in it. 

The next time Jiho comes by, they don’t have sex. It doesn’t seem important, and Seungyoon lets it slide to make room for Jiho sitting next to him on the couch with their knees touching and his hand in Seungyoon’s with their fingers laced. The tv is playing in the background, some show about American music from the second half of the twentieth century that Seungyoon recorded but wasn’t really paying attention to. It’s intimate enough. He can rewatch it later.

“I’ve been thinking about Minho,” Jiho says, but Seungyoon knows him well enough to know that he’s always thinking about Minho. Minho is a constant thought in the back of Jiho’s mind, even when he’s is holed up in his studio for weeks at a time, even when he’s with Seungyoon, and that’s okay. Even when this thing started between them, Jiho mentioned Minho, and Seungyoon was okay with that.

“What are you thinking?” Seungyoon says, prompting him.

“If you want to be with him, that’s okay. We can be that couple, or that _throuple_ , or whatever.”

Seungyoon laughs. “Where did you learn that word?”

“American tv.” Jiho laughs, too. “I’m serious, though. You like Minho, I know you do. It’s not just him liking you, the feelings are mutual.”

Seungyoon looks away, because it’s not everyday someone reads him as well as Jiho does. “Yeah, they are.”

“And you know how I feel about Minho. Am I explaining this right? I just meant that, you know. Minho might be into it. We don’t have to push him, but if it comes up again, then let’s go for it.”

Seungyoon feels that air bubble again, that lightness that Jiho inspires in him. “You’re one of a kind,” he says, and Jiho blushes. 

“I think the three of us are pretty unique, together.”

Seungyoon agrees, and would say more but the show has caught Jiho’s eye as it segues into famous blues musicians and he points out his favourites. “You should do a blues song,” Seungyoon says. “A whole blues album. You can rap over the blues seven.”

“You think?” Jiho’s eyes light up, and now he’s inspired, too.

* * *

For all of his feelings, deep like a well, unending almost, Minho can’t deny it hurts in a way that Jiho would rather spend his time with Seungyoon than him, but in the same thoughtwave Minho knows that it’s because he didn’t get his shit together first, and if he’d admitted anything to either one of them he could be doing the fucking instead of hearing it through the walls adjoining their apartments. It happens, and then it happens less, and then Jiho stops coming around as much, busy, probably, or worn out, and the whole time Minho pretends like that day never happened, guessing that Jiho and Seungyoon are probably doing the same, because their conversations haven’t changed, and no one says hey, remember that time you came in your pants because you were watching us fuck? Do you remember? Minho remembers, all right. He can’t stop thinking about it, seeing Seungyoon ride Jiho, his best friends together, their bodies flush with the exertion of it, the look in Seungyoon’s eyes as he said wait, just that word, wait. It haunts Minho.

But then one days Jiho comes to find him, while Minho’s in his pajamas with the chicken curry stains on them, and he sits on Minho’s bed like he’s done dozens of times before except now, now, right now, it feels heated and anticipatory. Minho feels a twist in his gut not unlike anxiety, but also not unlike arousal. He kicks the covers off and sits up against the wall. 

“So,” Jiho says, clearing his throat. Minho waits for it, afraid if he interrupts it’ll break Jiho’s concentration. “I listened to ‘Alchemy’.” Minho’s gut twists more, because Jiho’s opinion matters to him more than anyone else’s. “It’s good, really fucking good. Your verse—”

Jiho stops and takes Minho in, his gaze lingering on the column of Minho’s throat, and Minho swears he can hear Jiho swallowing. “How did you get so good? You’re better than me, now. I knew you would be, one day, I knew that.” He sounds as if he’s surprising himself the more he talks, and Minho can feel his gut twist with something else, some other feeling, some stupid thing he can’t control. “But, fuck, Minho. You rap better than me, you’re the best right now. Top 5 easily.”

Minho’s already known he was top 5 in idol rapper rankings, him and Jiho and Jiwon, Hanbin too, it wasn’t a secret, but something about Jiho’s tone tells him he’s not talking about idol rappers. The whole conversation has blindsided him so completely, he’s not sure what he should say, what he would say if he could say anything. 

“How do you rap like that? Tell me.” Jiho says it so quietly, murmuring, leaning closer to Minho as though it’s a secret, their shoulders brushing, and Minho catches a whiff of coffee on his breath, and when he kisses Jiho he tastes it, surprising himself, surprising them both. It seems to take an age for Jiho to kiss back, the whole time Minho trying to think of ways to stop himself, to pull away, to pretend like it isn’t happening, like it’s a joke, like it’s nothing, just something Minho would do to anyone who complimented him. An instinctual thing. No homo.

But then Jiho does kiss back, and his gut stops doing that thing it was doing, and when Jiho presses him back into the pillows he lets himself be pressed, and feels the weight of Jiho half-settling on him, feels the weight of being pulled down into something he’s wanted for a decade but never knew how to ask for. He forgets what Jiho asked him, he forgets himself. It feels too good to be distracted by anything other than what Jiho’s mouth is doing, what his hands are doing as they push up Minho’s tank top to play along his tattoo, tracing his belly button, latching onto his hip.

There’s less of Minho, now, and for the first time he feels as though that’s a bad thing, because he wants Jiho’s hands everywhere, he wants more of himself for Jiho to touch. He breaks the kiss to exhale a shaky breath and Jiho takes the opportunity to kiss down his neck, already so much better at this than Minho thought he would be. He’s calm and in control. He knows what he’s doing. 

“I’ve wanted this for a long time.” Jiho kisses each of Minho’s tattoos softly, a press of his lips, pushing Minho’s arm above his head to get to the ribbon, burying his nose in Minho’s armpit and pushing Minho’s shirt up further to get to his skin, his ribs, the bones of his hips. The whole time Minho feels as though he’s about to burn up from what Jiho’s doing to him.

“Yeah,” Minho says, the first thing he’s said today, his voice hoarse from arousal, his tongue tied and heavy and stupid in his mouth, his whole body useless because it’s not doing anything for Jiho. He feels like a virgin all over again, knocking his hands against Jiho’s chest, unsure of what to do or where they should go, grabbing onto his shoulders before dropping them again. Does he even know how to touch someone? Has he ever done it before? He feels so ungainly, so amateurish. Jiho doesn’t seem to mind, though, and Minho stops trying so hard and lets Jiho kiss down his chest. “I want this, too. I’ve wanted this.” Even what he’s saying sounds stupid, although it’s true. Jiho kisses down the patch of hair below Minho’s belly button and he inhales before Jiho resurfaces. 

“You know how I feel about you,” he says, his face giving everything away. His expression, his eyes are so soft, so open, Jiho laying himself bare in a way Minho’s never seen before. It breaks his heart in a way that is incongruous with the situation, that he’s one of the only people who gets to see this Jiho, that not everyone can love him for who he really is. 

“Please kiss me again,” Minho says, and Jiho does, and that’s how they spend the afternoon, kissing and touching and trying to know each other, strangers on a deserted island, two ships set adrift.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter FINALLY, lotsa fuckin', enjoy~~~

It’s not until well into the afternoon that Minho can breathe long enough to clear his head and remember why he wasn’t supposed to come onto Jiho in the first place. The thought comes rushing at him full speed while he’s just looking at Jiho, head resting on his chest, staring up at his face. It feels like being under a spell in a way. Maybe that’s love, maybe that’s what being in love is like. Or maybe that’s just Jiho.

“Wait,” he says, his chest constricting until he can’t breathe again. “Seungyoon. You shouldn’t—we shouldn’t have—Seungyoon is going to be so upset, shit, I didn’t want that to happen. I’m so stupid, I’m sorry—”

Jiho shushes him with a smile on his face. “I should have told you, Seungyoon and I agreed to—an open relationship. With you. If you want that.”

For the second time today he’s blindsided by something Jiho has told him. They want him in their relationship. They want _him_. After all these years of pining for Seungyoon and not knowing what he was doing for Jiho, it’s everything he’s wanted delivered to him. 

But, it doesn’t come without a catch. The reason Minho and Jiho never got together before was because they were afraid of ruining their friendship. There was ample opportunity, back in the dorms when they could have fooled around without anyone knowing, when they used to sleep squashed into those shitty single bunk beds, beside each other on one mattress because they were lonely, and afraid, and they each needed to have a breathing body there with them. It made sense at the time. Minho almost misses those days. He’s been aching for the missed opportunities all this time.

“If we do this,” Minho says, picking his words carefully, “and it goes badly, what’s going to happen to us?”

“Do you really think it’ll go badly?” Jiho asks more curiously than hurt, like maybe Minho would be if Jiho had asked him the same question. But Minho’s asking, so he isn’t allowed to be hurt.

“I think all relationships have the propensity to fail.” It hurts to say, because it’s true. He doesn’t want to think about ruining his friendship with Jiho, but he can’t not, now that this opportunity has presented itself.

“I think,” Jiho says, looking into Minho’s eyes, “that whatever we do, it won’t be a failure, because we’ll be together.” 

Minho kisses him again, because it feels like the right thing to do. It always feels right with Jiho.

* * *

It doesn’t happen right away. Seungyoon visits the cat dorm more often, coming in to check on Minho, he can tell, but no one makes a move, and Minho still has the imprint of Jiho’s lips on his own securing a permanent place in his memory. They release the album, they go to fansigns, and do interviews and radio shows, and no one brings it up, the subject, the _thing_ , and life goes on as normal.

* * *

The more Seungyoon looks back on it, the stranger the last few months have been. The good kind of strange though, the kind he wants life to be, if it includes Jiho in his bed and Minho, Seunghoon, and Jinwoo within reach. Jiho starts coming over more regularly to spend the night, which forces him to take time out of spending eighteen hours a day in his studio and go to bed at a reasonable hour. Seungyoon wakes up to Jiho already awake beside him, either on his phone or pretending to still be asleep, ready to stir when Seungyoon does so they can wake up together. The sheets get tangled up and sticky from their bodies and what they do to each other, revelling in it. 

They’re still basking in the afterglow when Minho knocks on Seungyoon’s door, popping his head in when Seungyoon calls out that it’s open. He brightens up when he catches sight of Jiho’s face and the bird’s nest of hair surrounding it. “Hey,” he says, so fond that Seungyoon watches Jiho melt, too. “Can we talk?”

Seungyoon motions for him to come in and sits up against the headboard. It’s a new bed, but his plushies are still there, along the top of the headboard, watching over them in a way Jiho finds creepy but Seungyoon finds comforting. Jiho struggles to sit up and push his hair back into something resembling a hairstyle, and Minho comes to sit on the end of the bed.

“I thought about what you said.” He looks to Jiho at this, a sheepish smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “And I think we should. If that’s okay with everyone.” He looks to Seungyoon, who feels himself smile, too. He would do almost anything for Jiho now, and he’s already felt that way about Minho for a while. “I’m not afraid of losing you, either of you.” It seems to take a lot of courage for him to say this, and Seungyoon reaches a hand out to him, which Minho takes.

“Okay, let’s do that,” Seungyoon says, tugging Minho closer, and he goes willingly, settling between them on the bed, over the covers while they’re under them. He takes a minute to adjust and Seungyoon gets sick of him wriggling, turning Minho onto his side and shoving the blankets around so he can spoon him, feeling how warm he is through the thin cotton of his shirt. “There, better?”

Minho laughs, says, “Yeah, that’s good.”

Instead of joining in, Jiho grabs Seungyoon’s laptop from the floor and pulls it onto his chest, loading up last night’s episode of M!Countdown, and it’s about halfway through that Minho’s heart stops jackrabbiting in his chest and he calms down. It’s just around the time that Seungyoon notices how good he smells, and then his dick picks up interest even though it’s at least another fifteen minutes before he can go again. Would Minho even want to right now? He’s hasn’t been with that many guys—at least he hadn’t a couple years ago, but things have changed since then. Seungyoon hasn’t been with that many people, only two before Jiho, and polyamorous relationships aren’t something he ever thought of himself being in before he met the both of them and decided one just wasn’t enough. Maybe he’s greedy. Maybe he’s just in love with too many people.

Seungyoon only realises he’s nuzzling the back of Minho’s neck when Minho exhales and shifts slightly, grabbing onto the hand Seungyoon has around his waist. 

“So, how do we—” Minho stops, and Jiho pauses the show. “You know. Do we take turns?”

It takes a few seconds, but then a smile pulls at Jiho’s lips, a smile that says he’s been waiting for the question since Minho accepted their offer.

“We can do a lot of things. Take turns, sure, but we can do something like, I do you, you do Seungyoon, we’re all happy. Or, have you ever been fucked while giving a blowjob?”

Minho inhales sharply and shakes his head. Seungyoon feels it in the way Minho’s body moves in his arms. 

“We could try that. Or double penetration. I’ve never done that before but it seems fun.” He’s acting casual about it, but Seungyoon knows from the conversations they’ve had between the two of them just how excited Jiho is to bring someone else into their relationship, how much he wants to try, how he wants to do it. He puts the laptop down again and rolls onto his side, up on one elbow. 

“I’ve had a couple threesomes with girls,” Minho admits, which is news to Seungyoon but not surprising. “But I haven’t been with that many guys. Never more than one at once, either.” Minho’s heart is beating harder again and Seungyoon kisses at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He catches Jiho’s eye wordlessly before Jiho leans over into Minho’s space. “I haven’t—done a lot. With guys.” Minho rolls backwards slightly to look up at Jiho, and Seungyoon can see his face now. He doesn’t look scared, or even overwhelmed. He looks excited.

“What do you want to do?” Jiho asks. He’s a natural at this, innately talented at propositioning people for threesomes and setting up poly relationships. 

Minho glances over at Seungyoon, then back to Jiho. “Everything.”

Jiho leans down to kiss him, and Minho rises up into it, while Seungyoon watches, feeling himself get aroused again, getting overheated now the sun is up and shining directly onto them through the window. He kicks the covers off and tugs at Minho’s shirt. “Can we get this off?”

Jiho breaks the kiss to laugh, because he would’ve said it nicer, but Minho does it anyway, and shuffles until the covers are discarded on the floor and there’s nothing in the way of them touching him, except the sweatpants Jiho tugs at that Seungyoon only realises once they’re off are Nerdy. Minho lies back on the bed and Seungyoon kisses down his chest. 

“I know you like that,” Jiho says, so extremely fond. “You should have been there the other day, Seungyoon-ah. He was so responsive, so giving. He let me do what I want.”

“Hyung,” Minho says, more like a chastising moan. Seungyoon takes Minho’s nipple into his mouth and teases it with his teeth and tongue until it’s fully hard, until Minho puts his hand on Seungyoon’s head, not directing him, but to ground himself. He’s hard now, too, but Seungyoon refrains from touching him there just yet, preferring to work up to it. He hears them kissing and looks up to watch them again until Minho’s hand tightens slightly in his hair and he gets back to what he was doing. 

Jiho was right; Minho is responsive. He makes these little noises every time Seungyoon does something he likes, and he seems to like a lot. Seungyoon uses his teeth and nips at Minho’s skin as he makes his way down, past his belly button and the patch of hair there to lick a stripe down Minho’s hardening cock. The first taste of him when Seungyoon takes him into his mouth is bitter, and different to Jiho, but not bad, and he gets used to it the more he sucks on the head of Minho’s cock while Minho swears into Jiho’s mouth. 

“Does that feel good?”

Minho makes a noise that sounds as though he’s biting his cheek, and Seungyoon takes that as encouragement to keep going. He feels Minho harden fully in his mouth when he sinks down. He’s at a weird angle but he manages to do it, and Minho’s dick slides easier down his throat this way, and he keeps going until Minho calls out to him. 

“Wait, I want to. Can you—I want to taste you.”

Seungyoon looks over his shoulder at him until Jiho says, “Straddle him,” and Seungyoon gets with the program. He’s still tacky with Jiho’s dried come but Minho doesn’t seem to care, licking into him anyway, pushing his tongue in as far as he can while Seungyoon feels as though he’s about to lose his mind. He struggles to get himself under control enough to go back to blowing Minho, but he does it, and it’s even better, feeling Minho’s tongue in him while he bucks into Seungyoon’s mouth. He’s not sure what Jiho’s doing until he drops between Minho’s legs and joins in, licking what Seungyoon doesn’t reach, doing to Minho what Minho’s doing to Seungyoon. It’s not long before Minho comes into Seungyoon’s mouth, bucking his hips enough to dislodge them both, spurting onto Seungyoon’s mouth and chin. 

“Shit, fuck,” Minho says, drawing out the words as he finishes coming. Seungyoon goes to wipe his face but Jiho pulls him in and then licks of Minho’s spunk for him, kissing Seungyoon, sharing it. 

When Seungyoon gets off him, Minho looks wrecked, flushed all over and hair a mess. Seungyoon kisses him then, for the first time, tasting him twice. 

“Can I blow you now?” Minho says, a little frantically, despite coming two minutes ago. He gets up on his elbows and Seungyoon sits back, says, “Yeah, of course,” and Minho lowers his mouth. He doesn’t get further than the head before he pulls back. “You’re too big. You won’t fit.”

Seungyoon refrains from laughing at the put-out look on Minho’s face, which quickly turns to frustration. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“But I want to,” Minho says, sounding angry at himself, “and I can’t.” He tries again, fitting his mouth over the head of Seungyoon’s cock and trying to lower himself, still unable to. When he pulls back there is wetness as the corners of his eyes, and Seungyoon feels bad for finding it hot how much Minho’s trying, how much he wants to make Seungyoon feel good he’s hurting himself to do it.

Jiho lies down behind him, pulling him back against Jiho’s chest, which seems to abate Minho’s frustration. “We can do other things.” Jiho takes a breath and says, a low murmur that’s still loud enough to hear, “I want to fuck you so bad.”

Minho closes his eyes and turns his face into his bicep, but that doesn’t stop Seungyoon from seeing the look on his face. He wants this as much as they do.

“I want you to,” he says, catching Seungyoon’s eye. “Both of you, but. I don’t want to be greedy.”

Seungyoon laughs at how Minho mirrors Seungyoon’s own thoughts, but lies down anyway, pulling Minho on top of him, kissing him to make him stop worrying. Minho kisses back hungrily, lowering himself down until they’re flush, Minho’s weight pressing on Seungyoon’s hard cock. He weighs practically nothing now. Seungyoon could toss him around if he wasn’t afraid of breaking him. He could definitely pin Minho against a wall. 

They make out lazily for a while, Seungyoon and Jiho sharing Minho between them, touching him to make him shiver, kissing him, licking and nipping at his skin until he’s all but a boneless mess on the bed. 

“Fuck, you’re making me hard again,” Minho says, after maybe fifteen or twenty or forty minutes of this, Seungyoon isn’t keeping track. Their own erections didn’t seem as important as making Minho feel valued and needed. 

“You could fuck me,” Seungyoon says, laying it out there, something he’s wanted more than he let on, “while Jiho fucks you.”

Minho shudders, says, “Yeah, good idea, yes,” and Seungyoon reaches for the lube. He’s already stretched and still lubed up from before so he waits for Minho to push in before he passes the bottle to Jiho and watches Minho’s expressions, his creased brow, his blush, his eyes rolling as Jiho pushes in. “Just breathe,” Seungyoon says, and Minho lets out a shaky breath. He feels so good inside Seungyoon that Seungyoon has to remember to breathe as well. He can feel it in the shift of Minho’s hips when Jiho bottoms out, as Minho buries his face in Seungyoon’s shoulder, hitching Seungyoon’s hips higher. 

When Jiho starts thrusting, Minho mirrors him, pushing into Seungyoon with practiced thrusts that leave Seungyoon panting. He wants all of Minho, everything Minho is willing to give, and this, what they’re doing, brings them closer in a way they could never have been before, and now he’s got him Seungyoon wants him everywhere. He tugs at Minho’s wrist to get his hand, sucking on his fingers in a way that makes Minho groan and drop his weight onto his elbow. 

Jiho seems to be the only one of them with any composure. Minho’s swearing with his head bowed and thrusting in time with Jiho, while Seungyoon quickly loses it to the feeling of Minho hitting that spot inside him. With one hand holding Minho’s fingers in his mouth, Seungyoon fists himself to get off quick and dirty, coming onto his own chest and adding to the flakes of what was already there from this morning. Once he’s done, he lifts Minho’s head to kiss him, and then Minho’s coming, too, filling Seungyoon up the way Jiho did, slipping out to paint his skin. 

“You bit my fingers,” Minho says, and Seungyoon laughs. He can’t help it; he should be apologising but he feels so good all that comes out is laughter. They lie there for a minute while Jiho keeps going, leaning over to kiss at whatever parts of Minho’s skin he can reach comfortably, orgasming when Seungyoon laces their fingers together on Minho’s hip, and all through it Minho makes these “ah, ah” noises in time with Jiho’s thrusts. When Jiho pulls out, Minho all but collapses on the bed beside Seungyoon, hiding his face with his hands while his body shakes with laughter. “That was. I don’t know what that was.”

“Amazing, incredible, show-stopping, life-changing,” Jiho says. “Wow, Jiho, you’re so good, I’ve never been fucked so well before.”

Minho drops his hands and says, in all seriousness, “I have never been fucked that good _in my life_ , shit. Fuck. I’m going to be feeling that for a week. You’re still dripping out of me.”

Jiho leans down to kiss him and they get caught up in it, and Seungyoon gets caught up in watching them, and he figures, this is his life now, being with them both, carving space in between concerts and albums and friendships and writing songs to keep them with him, in some part of himself that nothing else can reach, watching them, being with them, breathing them in.


End file.
